I have grown up eating at restaurants. Everytime I visited my grandparents, had a relative in town, or went to visit my Dad at work, there was always a restaurant involved. It is no surprise that I married a man that loves the restaurant industry--food, wine, exceptional service as much as I do. It is also no surprise that our son is better behaved at a 4-star restaurant table than at ours.
My grandparents always share stories of my baby moments eating out. The steak I ate, the olives on my fingers, and number of coffee creamers I drank. Yes, I used to be addicted to coffee creamers.
Today, that addiction has transferred to Kannon. We were stuck in traffic as the Ballard bridge was up and Kannon screaming in the back found a coffee creamer. Silence. Giggles. More silence. I looked behind me and he was powering through each coffee creamer like it was liquid gold. He spilled it everywhere and Emma cleaned him up. He squeezed the creamers as hard as possible and creamer squirted all over the back of my car like a big zit. Kannon demanded more.
The coffee creamer addiction has started. I am hiding them from his little reach and hoping that Seattle restaurants will do the same. The last thing this baby needs is cream.
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